Verse 1:
Grind to survive, putting time on the line
Messing with them white girls but don't have time for the line
Feeling finer than wine, or special as a 38
I ain't f**ing stopping till my money reach the pearly gates
And thats dumb high
I work it out like a combine
Tryna make it pro they know Im cold and each beat I beat like a drumline
No time for half grinding n***as who working sometimes
Pointless as a bench rider getting PT during crunchtime
Chasing paper boy like a dog
Roy Jones Jr on the mic, punchlines so hard
In my own world, that makes me like a God
Going for the green like I play golf, living large
Pre-chorus:
All the time these ends are on my mind
We just ride, and I ain't cutting no slack
Gotta get it cause theres no turning back
Flipping crack music, my wheels can't go flat
Chorus (2x):
Money money, them checks
Hard work and success
Money money them checks
Lamborghinis and jets
Verse 2:
Getting nice whips, like Frito Lay gotta make them chips
In the loop on that tie sh**, n***as sleep and I'ma take yo sh**
Early bird gets the worm, and the fruits of my labor staying clean
Get it?! crazy metaphors I makeup like Maybelline
Getting that cash, spending it fast, shooting like Dirk just to ball like the Mavs
Comp is like Lebron, in the playoffs when he played for the Cavs
Dr. Jekel making Mr. Hyde, while in the lab
Its like a ma**acre, everytime the pen hits the pad
Stack that paper my pocket look like a file cabinet
Drop a stack a like bad habit, b**hes bounce like a jack rabbit
With Floss headed to the stu, on my job
He got it under Control when we Cruise like Tom
Hitting about 100, no stunting, he blunted
Swag so indecent, I show my a** in public
Topic of discussion, trending n***a Im soaring
Working till every f**ing whip in my garage is foreign
(Pre-Chorus)
(Chorus)